


Redefining Home

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Banter, Dr. Curtis, F/M, Fluff, Living Together, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like everything, the way Toby asks Happy to move in with him is fairly unconventional. But what's even more unconventional is the fact that Happy is ready to say yes without a moment's hesitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redefining Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written, sort of, for three prompts: Dannii tobiasmquinn's "Steph and I were discussing Happy moving into Toby's apartment and her being like 'Nuh-uh, we need to redecorate' and her ending up having some mad interior design skills", an anon's "Quintis & pack!", and another anon's "Prompt where Quintis are moving in together and while unpacking they keep flirting/distracting each other." Which is who to blame if this is suffocatingly fluffy.

“Move in with me,” Toby says.

The timing, Happy has to admit, is bizarre. She’s midway through making them scrambled eggs and Toby’s got a carton of orange juice in one hand and two glasses in front of him on the counter, but in his other hand he holds a spare key.

“You want me to move in?” Happy asks, a little surprised.

He nods, setting down the orange juice. “I meant to ask you last night, but, uh,” his cheeks turn pink, “we got distracted.”

“I like that distraction,” Happy replies coolly, but she feels herself grow a little hotter as she lets herself roll the memories across her mind.

“I know you did,” Toby replies. He walks toward her, holding up the key. “And I see what you're doing here. Don’t think I missed the fact that you haven’t replied.”

She looks at it for a moment, and expects hesitation, a little fear, a little resistance to the idea.

Instead, when she reaches out and grabs the key, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. “Okay. I will.”

“Really?” Toby asks, and he looks so shocked that Happy’s annoyed.

“What, you expected a no?”

“I expected you to say you needed some time,” he corrects. “But I’m good with a quick and certain answer."

She loops her arms around his neck, playing with her keys between her fingers. “There’s one condition, though.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it a condition I’m going to like?”

Happy grins up at him, shaking her head. “Oh, not at all.”

He pouts, and she stands on her toes to kiss it away. “Don’t be too worried,” she mutters, sliding her fingers into his hair. “It’s nothing big.”

“Are you trying to make out with me to distract me?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she replies.

“Well, I appreciate the effort,” he replies, kissing her nose, “but the eggs are burning.”

“Oh, crap,” Happy says. She fixes that minor mishap, they eat, and Toby can’t wipe that ridiculous smile off his face the whole time.

She’d make fun of him, but she knows she’s doing the same thing.

“So what’s the catch?” Toby asks. “You get to use all the counter space? We have to get a new mattress? I have to walk around naked all the time? Because all three of these, I’m sure I can do.”

Happy raises an eyebrow. “If you’re offering, those all work for me,” she says with a grin. “But I was thinking more the décor in this place.”

“What’s wrong with my décor?” Toby asks, looking offended.

“Everything,” Happy deadpans. “Have you seen this place? It’s like the 70’s had a baby with the 90’s and that baby was raised by 80’s drag queens.”

“Hey!” Toby exclaims.

“You’re right,” Happy sighs. “Drag queens have way better taste than this.”

“What?!” And for the first time, Toby looks absolutely speechless.

“I like it when you’re flustered,” Happy muses. “Gives me some peace and quiet for once.”

“How – no!” he exclaims. “The place isn’t that bad.”

Happy scoffs. “Really?” she says, pointing to the curtains. “We’re in California. You can open those hideous curtains and see palm trees. You don’t need them as a pattern on your ugly ass curtains.”

“My ass is adorable, thank you very much.”

“Your curtains aren’t,” Happy replies. “Look, it’ll be a whatever many month gift from me to you.”

“Five months, one week,” Toby says.

“Okay, you know I knew exactly how many days. I just didn’t want to show off.”

Toby sets down his empty plate. “I like it when you show off.”

“You just think talking dirty means I talk about changing the oil in my car,” Happy replies.

He shrugs. “So your mechanic skills turn me on. I’m not ashamed.”

“My decorating skills match my mechanics skills,” Happy replies. “I mean, you’ve seen my apartment, right?”

Toby shrugs. “It’s alright.”

“It’s an open floor plan with a cohesive color design across all three rooms,” Happy fires back. “If I’m giving up that set up, I better be able to make this place livable.”

“It’s fine!” Toby says. “Look. See that couch over there? There are many memories on that couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Remember what we did last night on that couch?”

“We could get rid of that couch and keep my couch,” Happy replies, “and make some better memories.” She steps toward him and crowds him against his kitchen counter. His hands immediately go to her waist.

“That’s not the worst idea you’ve had,” Toby says, his eyes flickering down to her lips. He pulls her closer. “And how, exactly, do you have such great design skills?”

“Remember that fight we had over visual perception vs. verbal comprehension being a more important part of IQ testing?” she asks, trailing her fingertips up and down his chest.

He stares at her for a second before responding. “Right. Verbal comprehension is such much more important, by the way.”

“And you’re still wrong about that,” she mutters, sliding her hands up the front of his shirt. His muscles flex as her fingertips touch his skin, his hands hold her tighter. “But visual perception isn’t only good for fixing cars or designing machines,” she leans in close. “I’m good at everything design related.”

“Are you trying to make that sound sexy?” he asks. “Because I’ve never been turned on by someone talking about interior design before.”

Happy shrugs. “If it works, I’m going to try it. Will you let me redecorate?” She kisses him again, long and deep, and the little whine in the back of his throat proves that her plan is working.

“If you do that every morning,” he says, breathless as she pulls away, “then yeah, anything you want.”

She grins at him. “I knew you’d make the right decision.”

“One condition,” he says, grinning at her.

“Yeah?”

“We need to give that couch a good sendoff.” Toby picks her up and she wraps her legs around his waist.

“That’s a condition I’m good with,” Happy laughs.

* * *

They’re smiling and sated, exhausted but pleased, half an hour later. Happy’s got a blanket twisted around her legs as she lay on top of Toby as he plays with her hair. When they first started dating, when they first became what they are now, the look he’s giving her now used to scare her, make her run. But now it just makes her feel warm and welcome, like she’s finally coming home.

She supposes she’s home right now.

“I think that was an adequate sendoff,” Toby murmurs.

“Me too,” Happy says. “But I’d go with a stronger word than adequate.”

Toby laughs. “So, when are you thinking you want to bring your stuff over here? Today? Tomorrow?”

“Somebody’s eager,” she says. She sits up, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “But, yeah. If we don’t get a call from Walter, I bet we could do it today. I have a small apartment and not too much stuff.”

Toby’s eyes light up. “Who’s eager now?”

“Shut up,” Happy laughs. “We’ll have to get my stuff in here before we redecorate.”

Happy’s landlord is disappointed but okay with her leaving, since her lease is up at the end of June anyway. He's apparently got a list a mile long of people to call if he has an unexpected opening, which makes Happy feel a little bit better about moving out.

“Tell you what,” Mr. Joplin says, “you don’t worry about June’s rent. I’ve got a couple who was dying for a place. I’ll let them know yours will be open at the end of May.” He pauses. “You can be out in a week, right?”

Happy nods. “No problem.” She looks around the place. “I don’t have much to move out."

He nods. “We’ll miss you around here,” he says with a smile. “You take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Mr. J.”

What’s easy is the small stuff. Happy’s got a million tank tops but only a dozen pairs of jeans and leggings, some jackets, a total of three dresses, and her workout clothes. It all fits into a massive suitcase Toby had pulled out from the back of his closet. She's not sure why he has it but it works, and she's not going to ask. Linens, books, electronics, dishware, silverware, each fit into a box of their own (books end up in three boxes), but she’s struck by how little she has when she sees it all on the floor in her living room, and then in the back of her truck, fitting so easily.

“Alright,” Happy says. “Your place to drop this stuff off, then back here to get the furniture.”

“Good deal,” Toby says. “Also, I think I’m bleeding. Am I bleeding?” He turns around and, sure enough, he’s got a cut about a quarter inch long on the back of his neck.

“What the hell did you do to yourself?”

He turns and grins apologetically. “I might have dropped that picture of you and your dad off the wall.”

“And it hit you on the neck?”

His grin grows even more sheepish. “I might have turned away from it and it landed on my neck.”

"Is the frame okay?" she asks, because as much as she pretends to be stoic, that was the first photo of herself and her father taken since their reconciliation and she doesn't want it damaged.

"Yes," Toby says. "I'm the only injured party in that incident."

“You're an idiot,” she says. She grabs a paper towel out of one of the boxes and mops him up. “My bandaids are all packed, but you should be good until we get to your house.”

“My hero,” Toby says, kissing her.

They drop off the boxes, her things looking larger now that they’re trying to fit into Toby’s mess of an apartment. When they get back to her place, their first move is to accidentally drop one of her kitchen chairs down to the second floor landing. It shatters.

“Sorry!” Toby exclaims, looking horrified. He turns to Happy. “I didn’t – I can’t believe –”

Happy sighs. “Well, your chairs aren’t too terrible,” she decides. “They may not go with my idea, but we’ll make it work.”

“You already have an idea for the place?” Toby asks.

Happy nods. “Since the day we started dating,” she admits. "Your setup is an offense to eyes everywhere."

Toby’s lips turn into a smile. “Oh,” he says. “You’ve wanted to move in with me since we started dating?”

Happy shrugs. “I decided on you for the long haul when I decided to be with you at all.”

“Aw,” Toby says. “That’s adorable.”

Happy rolls her eyes. “Shut up and help me get this stuff out.” But she kisses his cheek, because it's true. He's stuck with her for the long haul.

All they have left to move now is Happy’s mattress, her couch, and her last chair. The one bedroom, kitchen/dining room, and bathroom don’t have much room to story many "things", but furniture is a whole new story. But the couch is big enough to present a problem.

“Can’t you just leave it?” Toby asks.

“Leave it?!” Happy exclaims. “It’s the centerpiece of the room!”

“It’s a black leather couch,” Toby replies. “We can get a new one.”

“I’m not spending five grand on a new couch.”

Toby’s jaw dropped. “You spent five thousand dollars on a couch?”

“Because it’s the centerpiece of the design!” Happy repeats. “Look, are you going to help me, or not?”

“Oh, I’ll help you,” Toby replies. “I can’t believe we’ve been fucking on a five thousand dollar couch for five months.”

“If that freaks you out,” Happy says, pushing her mattress up against the wall, “then I’m not telling you how much my towels were.”

“Oh, my god,” Toby groans.

They’ve decided to get rid of Toby’s beat to hell queen mattress in place of Happy’s far superior king size, but that means getting it down the stairs and Toby getting pinned against the wall by the mattress as Happy pulls it off him.

“If I yell ‘pivot’ are you going to get the reference?” Toby groans as they twist the mattress down the stairs.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he says. “We have some pop culture references for you to become familiar with once we get home.” He smiles at her. “Home. We have a home now.”

“Are you going to be all sappy, or can we put this thing in the bed of the truck?” Happy asks. “And sorry about it crashing into you.” She pats his cheek. “The plastic thing I put it in made it way more slippery than I expected.”

“No problem,” Toby says. “I’m still over the moon about the home thing. I'm going to ride that high for a while, so if you have any more furniture to drop on me, do it now.”

They shove the mattress to the bottom of her truck bed, slide the couch on top of it, and then strap the couch and the chair down with an unreasonable amount of bungee cords.

“Toby, we don’t need this many,” Happy says, watching him put layer upon layer on top of the couch. “I did the math – we only need the six that I hooked in.”

“Yeah, well, you did the math,” he grunts, pulling the cord taught, “I did the paranoia. I don’t want this five thousand dollar fucking couch getting damaged.”

“You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you,” Happy notes.

Toby looks at her. “All my furniture put together cost maybe a fifth of that.”

Happy sighs. “And that’s why I’m the one designing the place.”

As they drive back to Toby’s – their – apartment, Toby’s got his eyes locked on the bed of the truck.

“Okay, but what if it –”

“Shush,” Happy says, holding up one finger. “You’re being annoying.”

“I just don’t want our furniture to fall out of the truck.”

“It’s not going to fall out of the truck,” Happy groans.

It doesn’t. It’s fine.

And it takes them ten minutes to unhook all the bungee cords.

“See, if it wasn’t for me,” Toby says, making an ungodly long chain of bungee cords for absolutely no reason, “the couch would have flown off.”

“Incorrect,” Happy replies. “Are you going to chill out now? Because we have to bring this stuff into your apartment and I don’t want you to be distracted.”

“Should we have other people help us?” Toby asks, concerned. “It’s a whole couch.”

“Up one flight of stairs,” Happy adds. “We’ll be fine.”

Fine, she realizes soon after, is an overstatement. They barely get it up the stairs, but when they finally settle it on the landing, halfway through Toby’s door, Happy notices something caught on her jeans and tore a massive hole. And that massive hole leads to a cut that doesn't feel too good.

“Oh,” she says. “That’s not good.” She pulls her hand away, streaked with blood. "I'm bleeding."

“Bleeding?” Toby asks, still trying to shove the couch into the door. It’s his only chance to get back into their apartment – the way downstairs is blocked.

“A little bit,” Happy says, touching her hand to her thigh. She hisses at the sting. “Okay, more than a little bit.”

With unexpected strength and speed, Toby manages to shove the couch through the door so he can make it up the stairs to Happy.

“That was impressive.”

“You’re in trouble,” Toby explains. “I had to put on my knight in shining armor hat and come rescue you.” Before Happy can comment on whatever that was, Toby kneels down, examining the cut. “Must have caught on some gear on the couch,” he decides. “I’ve got some medical glue in our bathroom. I’ll fix this up for you when we get in there?”

“You’re going to glue me?” Happy asks, vaulting over the couch into the living room.

“It’s more effective than stitches for clean, small injuries,” Toby explains, pushing all his weight onto pushing the rest of the couch into the living room. “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

Happy manages to angle the couch. It’s a miracle that everything fits.

“Hey, you know what we should have done?”

“What?”

“We should have taken your bed and couch out before pulling this one upstairs,” Happy decides, feeling stupid. “This was dumb.”

“No, we’re fine!” Toby replies. “Come on, we’ll just slide my couch down the stairs.”

“Slide it?” Happy asks. “Don’t we want to sell it?”

“I bought it for two hundred dollars from a thrift store,” Toby says.

“I’ve been banging you on a thrift store couch?” Happy asks, her voice dangerous.

“I cleaned it thoroughly,” Toby assures her. “But, yeah. It’s eight years old. We can just put it on the curb.”

“And your mattress?”

Toby shrugs. “It’s an eight year old mattress,” he says. “Not sure how much we’ll get for it.”

Happy sighs. “To the curb it is.”

“First, I’m fixing your leg,” Toby corrects. “Come on. On the counter.”

“I don’t need to –”

“Sit,” Toby says, “on the counter.”

Happy shuffles out of her jeans and throws them on the floor. Toby goes immediately clinical as he examines the wound. “Any pain?” he asks, gently pressing around the injury.

“Not really,” she replies. “I mean, it stings, but nothing bad.”

“Good, good,” Toby mutters. “Alright, we’ll definitely just glue it, but I’ll need you to rest for 15-20 minutes for the glue to set.”

Happy groans. “They should make faster drying glue, then.”

Toby looks up at her. “We could design some. That’d be a fun side project.”

“Good deal,” Happy says. “Just glue me up so we can get back to work.”

Toby comes back with a damp towel and glue, talking to her about nothing as he fixes the cut. She’s impressed with his professionalism here, careful hands mixed with a soothing voice.

“You know,” she says, kicking at him, “you don’t have to be so serious. I’m your girlfriend, not your patient.”

“Yeah, but I want to take care of you,” he replies. “And that requires me to put on, as you say, Doctor Face.”

“You’re so weird,” Happy says with an eye roll, but she sort of appreciates it.

“This might hurt a little,” he explains. “I have to pinch together your skin a little bit to make sure the glue seals.”

“Seriously?” Happy says. She leans close to him. “I don’t mind. Just fix it.” She kisses him firmly but short to get the point across.

He smiles at her, a little distracted. “You’re impressed by Dr. Curtis, I get it,” he says, pushing the skin together, “just admit it.”

Happy rolls her eyes. “It’s most impressive when you’re saving a guy’s life with a tampon in the back of my van, but, yeah,” she admits. “It’s pretty nice to take care of this without needing an emergency room visit.”

He glues down the injury, a one and a half inch tear, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Hey,” says Happy. “We live together.”

“We do,” Toby replies, tiny smile on his lips. “This okay?”

“Moving in together?” Happy asks. “Of course. This is the best idea you've ever had.”

Toby smiles. "That's good to know," he says. "But I meant the glue. Does it hurt?"

“Nope,” Happy replies.

"Good." Toby leans in and kisses her, so softly and so sweetly that she loses herself in it. “There,” he says, moving his hand. “It’s drying.”

“Did you distract me with a kiss?” Happy asks. “Because that is definitely not something you do with your patients.”

“Yeah, well, somebody reminded me that you’re my girlfriend, not my patient,” he says. “Hey, do you want dinner? We should have dinner.”

“I think we brought some things from my cabinets,” Happy says. “In that box,” she says, pointing with her foot.

“What, you mean the four cans of soup, jug of milk and, like, four gallons of ice cream?” he asks. “Already put away. Because you have no food in your apartment, ever.”

Happy sighs. “That’s only because I’ve been here more than I've been there lately."

“And now,” Toby says, grinning, "you don't have to worry about that. Because we only have to stock one fridge." He pauses, midway through pulling out the box of pasta. "Is it weird that I find that romantic?"

"A little."

They eat while Happy’s glue sets and Happy explains her ideas for how to organize the room. Couch in the middle of the floor with one of Toby’s end tables on either side, shredding his curtains and replacing them with her light blue ones, and pretending his stupid lamps don’t exist.

“I like my stupid lamps!” Toby says, pouting.

“Then they can stay in the storage space,” Happy decides, grinning. She looks around. “Okay, actually, they’d look acceptable on those end tables. As decoration, though. We’re using floor lamps in the corner for light, and we’re opening those damn curtains as much as possible. Natural light works so much better in a place like this.”

He looks at her. “You really know a lot about interior design, don’t you?” He sighs. "Always full of surprises, my girl."

Happy shrugs, trying not to be too smitten by being called his girl. He does it enough - she should be used to it by now. “Once I had a place of my own,” she says, swinging her legs, “I wanted to make sure it was exactly how I wanted it. I read up on interior design, matched that with what I already knew, and,” she shrugs again, “I made things the way I liked them. And if that meant spending money I’d never had before, so be it. I wanted to feel safe.”

“And now I get what you mean when you said cash poor,” he says, looking around. “You’ve got some fancy stuff, Happy Quinn.”

“Are you calling yourself fancy?” she asks, hopping off the table and pulling her jeans on.

“Only a little bit,” he shoot back, grinning. “And I was going to say the glue should be set by now, but apparently you jumped the gun on that.”

“I jump the gun on most things,” Happy replies. She shakes out her leg. “Feels fine. Let’s get those pieces of junk out of here.”

“You weren’t calling it a piece of junk a couple hours ago when I got you off three times in thirty minutes,” he says, self-satisfied grin.

“Yeah, well that was more you, not the couch,” Happy says with a grin.

They take care of the couch and the mattress with speed that impresses Happy, and when the bed frame won’t break down, she settles for kicking it at some of the least stable joints until it collapses.

“Why do I always find that so hot?” Toby asks himself, looking exasperated.

Happy grins at him. “Because you’re incredibly weird,” she explains. They get the bed frame out the door to find that the couch is already being considered by some college kids who insist they give Toby fifty dollars, and Happy throws the broken frame in the dumpster behind Toby’s apartment.

“By, Mr. Curtis!” says the girl.

“Mr. Curtis?” Happy asks, folding her arms. “Seriously?”

“They always forget the ‘doctor’,” Toby says, shrugging. “So yeah.”

“God, that makes you sound old,” Happy sighs.

Hauling the mattress and the chair up into Toby’s apartment are easy compared to the couch, and Happy has to admit that she’s exhausted. The place looks like a wreck, but at least everything is in the right place.

“Is it bad that I just sort of want to sleep here tonight?” Toby asks, collapsing onto the plastic-covered mattress. “Not move for three days?”

“We’re almost done,” Happy says, filling herself a cup of water. “Get up, you big dork. We have to at least set the bed up.”

Toby pouts. “Do we have to?”

Happy nods, holding out her hand. “Well, it’s our first night living together,” she hooks her arms around his waist. “We need somewhere to celebrate.”

“I’m suddenly incredibly motivated,” Toby says. When he kisses her, she can’t help but smile against his lips.

Their idea of celebrating, though, is nipped in the bud when Happy walks out of the shower to see Toby passed out cold in the middle of their bed, still wearing his jeans and tee shirt. The king sized bed makes his room look a little smaller, a little more cramped, but she thinks that may be because they haven’t decided on whose dresser to put where.

Her boxes are nearly all packed still on the living room floor, and her design is mostly still in her head, but she lives with Toby.

This is their home.

She grabs a pair of his boxers and his favorite tee shirt to wear to bed, because she can, and falls next to Toby in bed. It’s strange to be under her blankets but within the four blue-grey walls of Toby’s bedroom, but she feels at home now. It feels right.

She should be more wary of moving this fast. She should be worried about what could go wrong, what happens if they break up or if they don’t work out the way she hopes.

But right now, she just feels happy.

“Love you,” she mutters as she falls asleep. “We’ll finish this place up tomorrow.”

And she falls asleep, in their home, in his arms, in their bed.


End file.
